


Angels Fall First

by Rinienne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Castiel, First Time, Happy Ending, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinienne/pseuds/Rinienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you hate me so much, why do you keep calling my name in your sleep?” ... “And if you hate me so much, why do you keep coming back when I call you?”<br/>Post Godstiel, spoilers for 6x21 and no further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angels Fall First

**Author's Note:**

> The overall title "Angels Fall First", borrowed from the song of Nightwish.

Dean was sitting in the  kitchen  at Bobby’s house. A bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass in the other. He looked at the two objects, considering them before returning the glass where he had gotten it, and opened the bottle bringing its neck to his lips. The bitter liquid burned his throat, but it was exactly what he wanted right now.

  
It had been three weeks since Castiel had declared himself a new god; It was two weeks after Dean had told Castiel that he’d rather die than bow down and profess his love. It was one week after Castiel  **_actually_ **  tried to kill the hunter, and it was three days since Bobby found Castiel in a crater, in his junkyard, unconscious, and covered in blood.  
  
Dean imagined Bobby, Sam, and he would be arguing over what to do with the angel, _because clearly he wasn’t a god anymore_ , but they hadn‘t. Instead, Bobby and Sam just moved Castiel into the panic room and laid him on the bed. Bobby probably had to change Castiel because his coat was a mess, he’d probably had to stitch him up and clean him, too. Dean didn‘t know. After seeing Castiel in the condition they‘d found him in, Dean had just grabbed the keys to the Impala and driven away to the closest bar in Sioux Falls. He returned only the next day.  
  
After that, Dean never came close to the panic room. He was angry, he was pissed, and the current state of the angel didn’t help Dean to not forgive or forget. And so he was sitting in Bobby’s kitchen, trying to drink his thoughts away.  
  
“Cas woke up.” Said Sam, who appeared behind his older brother.  
  
Dean turned his head and looked at his the younger of them. Sam looked tired, his face was pale with dark spots under his eyes, but he was alive. The first few days after the wall had fallen, Sam had been a mess: He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat, and he was seeing Lucifer and Michael in every corner of the room. Dean had to stay around his brother every second; holding his brother’s hand and brushing his finger‘s through Sam‘s hair. But Sam was getting better; he could already sleep on his own. Sometimes he would still wake up crying from the nightmares, but he was safe.  
  
And now Castiel had woken up; that meant he was also safe. Even if Dean couldn’t forgive Castiel, he wasn’t surprised at the light feeling of relief found somewhere inside of his heart. He would never admit it to anyone else though, because he was Dean. He lived because he buried his feelings somewhere deep and dark; Somewhere even he, himself, couldn’t find them.  
  
“Nice for him, I guess.” Dean replied indifferently.  
  
“He won’t talk; Not to me, and not to Bobby.” Sam added.  
  
“Mhm…” Dean nodded, taking one more gulp of Whiskey.  
  


***

  
The first several days of Castiel being around were shit-filled. He refused to speak to anyone, he wasn’t accepting food, he just sat in the panic room, behind the metal locker, hugging his knees. He looked at everyone who entered the room like a scared stray dog driven into a corner, ready to bite. His injuries started to cover over, but it was far from any angelic healing speed. The fact that he began sleeping, and that his stomach would growl, asking for food from time to time, made it clear that he wasn’t even an angel anymore.  
  
Bobby had to leave food on a table in the room, because every time he or Sam would try to get any closer, Castiel would shrink into his corner terrified. Castiel hadn’t touched the food for two days after waking up, but Bobby noticed that the food started to disappear. Castiel would only eat when no one was watching him.  
  
At the end of the fourth day Castiel finally spoke for the first time:  
  
“Why wouldn’t you just leave me where you found me?” He asked when Bobby brought him some soup.  
  
“Don’t be stupid, boy. You know why.” Sighed Bobby, glancing up at Castiel.  
  
“I’m not a  **_boy_ ** , stop talking to me like I’m a child.” Castiel growled.  
  
“Sure thing,” nodded the hunter, “when you stop behaving like one.”  
  
The fallen angel turned towards Bobby and opened his mouth to say something. But then he changed his mind and took the bowl of soup from the hunter’s hands.  
  
“Thank you,” he nodded.  
  
“You’re welcome son, after you finish your food I’ll bring you some clean clothes and a towel; So you can take a shower.”  
  
Castiel remained silent after that, but he began leaving the panic room more often than to just use the restroom. But every time Castiel met up with Dean somewhere, he’d simply turn around and wonder elsewhere. Dean, himself, wasn’t bothered by Cas’ behavior; In fact he was glad he didn’t have to spend any time looking at the ex-angel.  
  


***

  
  
Cas had nightmares.   
  
Dean knew that sleeping wasn’t an entirely new experience for the ex-angel, but it still must've been unfamiliar. The older Winchester could often hear Castiel screaming at night from his place on the living room couch, his temporary bed. Dean sometimes thought that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from going to the basement and soothing the fallen angel. Then Dean would start thinking about his brother, and about how Sam would scream after the wall in his head had fallen. It was all Castiel’s fault; he deserved to know what he made Sam go through.   
  
On some nights Dean could see Castiel sneaking out to the junkyard. Of course, Dean would never try going after him, he’d never wanted to see what Cas was doing. Dean would just lie on the couch in the living room, pretending to sleep.   
  


***

  
  
It took two weeks for Castiel to stop running away into another room every time the older Winchester was in the vicinity. But he’d never look at the hunter; Cas would never say a single word to him. Dean, in turn, had nothing but verbal diarrhea for Castiel. Every single word was an attempt to make the fallen angel feel even worse than he already did. And Dean would use anything he could.  
  
“That’s my shirt.” Dean growled one day.  
  
Castiel was standing in a doorway between the corridor and the living room. He had just left the panic room, Bobby having called him up for dinner. Apparently the old hunter decided that Castiel should eat with them from now on - in the kitchen. And Bobby tried talking to Dean; He tried convincing him that eating all together would help take the heat off. Dean didn’t think so.  
  
“You haven’t worn it for years, you idjit!” Bobby protested.  
  
It was a light blue shirt with a white picture of a man, a guitar, and the sign “AC/DC”. Some time ago the blue color had been darker, and the picture was more legible. But now the shirt was covered in bleach spots and it had several holes around the neck and right sleeve. It was a very old shirt, and Dean was sure that it was far too small for him now, but it was just the right size for Cas.  
  
Dean was also sure that the jeans Castiel wore were also one of his old ones, but he wasn’t starting this argument because he didn’t want to share his clothes. He just wanted to say something offensive.  
  
“That’s  **_my shirt_ ** .” Dean repeated in the same manner.  
  
And Castiel took it off right where he was standing, leaving his pale chest bare. He then threw the shirt at Dean, turned around, and returned to the panic room.  
  
“Are you happy now?” Bobby asked.  
  
Inviting Castiel to eat with everyone was definitely a bad idea.

The other day Dean had walked into the living room and saw Castiel sitting on the couch before the TV, a pack of small carrots in his hands. “Was it Sammy who thought you should eat rabbit food?”

Castiel glanced at Dean and turned his head, swelling in pride and refusing to say anything.

“Healthy food prolongs life, Dean.” Sam defended.   
  
“Yeah, sadly carrots won’t let Cas live for a thousand more years.” He chuckled.   
  
At those words Castiel stood up dropping the bag and hastily exiting the room, Dean heard the porch door slam a moment later.   
  
Sam glanced at his brother with blame in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

 

***

  
Dean had the urge to return back to the road, to hunt. He wanted to burn some vengeful spirit, or to cut the head off a vampire, or just shooting something would be great. But he couldn’t. Sam was feeling better and better with every passing day, but he still wasn’t ready for any hunting, and no one would let Dean go hunting alone. Several times Dean thought to run away, every time however, he faced one problem: he couldn’t find a single hunt for himself - researching was his weak point.   
  
One morning Dean woke up due to the sound of gun shots, they were coming from the most remote corner of the yard. At first Dean thought that the house was under attack, but the shots were measured with the same time interval. It sounded more like someone was shooting aims.   
  
When the hunter got out of the house he was greeted with the sight of Castiel. The fallen angel was standing in the junk yard. He was surrounded by old rusty cars; a gun was in his hands. Castiel was shooting glass bottles, positioned on a small handmade pedestal built of bricks and wooden planks. According to the number of broken glass around the floor of the pedestal, he wasn’t too bad an aim.   
  
Castiel didn’t notice Dean, and the hunter watched him for some time. Watched at how Cas’ whole body moved abruptly backwards every time he shot; the determination in his face.   
  
“You’ll need to do better than that,” Dean finally spoke up after a few more shots. He was looking at the number of intact bottles, “to being able to protect yourself.”   
  
Castiel said nothing, but his next three shots missed their targets by far. And with every one of them his body was became stiffer.   
  
“But yeah, who gives a gun to a baby anyway?” Dean chuckled.   
  
Dean expected Castiel to drop the gun and run away, like he usually did, but instead the angel turned towards the hunter, pointed the gun at him, and shot.   
  
Dean’s heart stopped.   
  
The bullet passed just to the left of his head, leaving a loud ringing noise in his ear. All his body became rigid for a split second and he nearly fell when his legs softened. Gladly, Dean was able to regain control of his body, but after that he could do nothing more. He just stared as Castiel unloaded his gun and returned back inside the house.   


***

  
  
The next day Castiel disappeared. He wasn’t in the house, wasn’t in the junkyard. Dean decided that the Castiel had his Angel-Mojo returned to him somehow, and left them. But Bobby announced that some of the money he had hidden in the library disappeared also.  
  
“You aren’t going to go and find that idjit?” Bobby acquired.  
  
“No, I can’t drive after drinking.” Dean sneered.  
  
“But you ain’t been drinking yet.”  
  
“ **_Yet..._ ** ”  
  
Dean stood from where he was sitting and moved toward the cupboard in the kitchen, extracting a bottle of whiskey and opening it. Bobby sighed and left Dean alone with his precious bottle.  
  
Dean was, of course, worried for Castiel, but he just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. He promised Bobby and Sam that he would go and look for Cas if he didn’t return before the evening. Luckily, the ex-angel returned just before this time, saving Dean from the inconvenience of searching.  
  
Dean was outside, cleaning his Impala. He was glad that after their last encounter with the demons, his baby wasn’t damaged too much. Just a huge bump on the roof, really. Dean would have it fixed within a week.  
  
Castiel passed Dean and walked up to the porch. Dean noticed the ex-angel, but acted like he didn’t. He was sure Castiel would go inside the house and lock himself again in the panic room, before Bobby starts questioning about missing money. But Castiel just settled on porch, looking in no particular direction. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a cigarette, lightened it and started to smoke, chocking on it at first.  
  
Dean noticed Castiel with the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move. Instead, he turned back to the Impala, washing it’s windshield with a sponge.  
  
But the scent wafted over to Dean and he inhaled the smell; and this cigarette the ex-angel was smoking was definitely not a normal one. Dean turned on his heel and moved towards Castiel with bold steps. When he was in reach of the ex-angel, he pulled the joint from Castiel’s mouth and threw it on the floor, smothered it with his shoe.  
  
“What the hell?!” He exclaimed angrily. “Where’d you get this shit?!”  
  
But the ex-angel didn’t answer him.  
  
“Doesn’t matter. Listen, if ever I catch you with  **_one of these_ ** one more time, you’ll regret it!” Dean growled.  
  
“I was following your advice, Dean.” Castiel spoke finally. And his voice made Dean shiver with goose bumps. It had been a month since Dean heard his voice. “You were right; I won’t be able to live a thousand years more. So, why bother about my health or about my safety? Ten years more, ten less, it doesn’t matter.”  
  
Dean remembered one variant of the future Zachariah had once shown him, remembered the stoned and drunk Castiel. He wasn’t surprised that the ex-angel decided to try drugs, wasn’t surprised he chose to burry himself in them, because angelic grace was everything to Cas. Without his grace, Castiel felt like he had an empty spot, and no reason to live. But the question was, how could Dean from the future let it happen? Didn’t he care at all? Or he did, but no one could tell because of the huge stick in his ass.  
  
The problem was, in fact, that the present Dean had the same stick in the same place. Dean could tell, he just wouldn’t. For Dean, it would be the same as drawing a bulls-eye on his back with a neon sign that reads, “Look at me. I’m so vulnerable.”  
  
So, from all the variants, Dean chose the one which seemed the most appropriate for the moment. He grabbed the neck of Cas’ old black shirt, which also once belonged to Dean, and pulled Cas up. The ex-angel opened his mouth to say something but a hard fist landing in his stomach, cutting the words off. Cas moaned from the pain, bending and bracing his stomach with his hands.  
  
“ **_I said_ ** , if I catch you with that shit again, you  **_will_ **  regret it.”  
  
Dean was about to turn around and move away from Castiel and back to his baby, but suddenly the ex-angel moved towards him, punching him in the face. Dean was pretty sure, that without his angelic-mojo Castiel would be a weak opponent, but now he could surely see how  **_wrong_ **  he was. Castiel’s body knew how to move on simple reflexes, his punches were precise and strong. Soon, the two men fell onto the floor, panting, grabbing each-other’s collars, and tumbling into dirt and rock.  
  
Castiel ended up on top of the hunter, holding his neck with one his hand and sending punches to Dean’s face with the other. Castiel’s face was nearly red from anger and pain, it covered in bruises, his bottom lip had split and there was blood on his brow. Dean probably looked even worse, but it didn’t matter. Dean was used to it.  
  
Castiel took one more swing, but his hand stopped half way. He groaned, stood up off of the hunter and tried to catch his breath. Then he turned around and moved towards the door, disappearing behind it and leaving the hunter alone, splayed across the ground in the dusky evening.


	2. When A Human Falls

It had been almost four year since Dean returned from Hell. Sometimes it seemed like it was only yesterday. At least hunter was glad the nightmares about his time in the Pit were visiting him less and less often.  
  
But then it started all over again. At first those dreams were blurry, and Dean couldn’t distinguish anything more than ghostly shades of scarlet, sometimes he was lucky enough to wake up before the dream became too chaotic, but he’d always awaken panting and covered in his own sweat.  
  
On nights like those, Dean would have reached under his pillow and extract a wedge of soft blue fabric - the same old blue shirt he had recovered from Castiel sometimes ago. Dean wanted to return it back, because he really didn’t need it, but his own pride didn’t let him to do so. He also tried to throw it away, but no matter what, he kept returning it back shoving under the pillow and every time he had a nightmare he kept finding himself touching it. It felt like something to be ashamed of, like something so dirty that every time his brains was waking up, hunter was jerking his hand away, hating himself for being so uncontrolled over own actions.  
  
Later his dreams started to become clearer and more realistic: he saw Alistair standing above him with a terrifying grin on his face and a knife in his hand. Every time the sharp blade was touching hunter’s skin, pain was spreading all over his body in acute spasms, it felt so real.  
  
Dean wanted to scream, but he didn’t let himself to do so. All the sounds he was allowing to emit were dumped and blunt. He was waking up breathless, with his face buried in the blue fabric. The shirt still smelled like Castiel, it still felt like his touch. Dean hated himself for doing it, hated himself to be so weak that he still needed an angel to banish his bad dreams away. And he knew that he will never be able to ask him to do it, because Castiel left him, he betrayed him.  
  
 _It’s dark, darker than a night with no stars and no moon, but Dean can see blood and several souls prepared for him on the rack... Dean can hear everything, too; Even better than he can see it, the screaming, the yelling, and the begging for mercy. Dean takes a new soul off the rack and begins cutting away at it, as something dark curls around his heart and mind... And, if a smile does twist his lips while he works, is it really such an important detail? He’s just enjoying himself._  
  
 _Dean is gone. He has no memories of his life, of his brother, of his father, or of anything else._  
  
 _Suddenly, there’s this bright light, and it’s so warm and so beautiful. Dean raises his head to see a pair of large white wings above him. He shouldn’t know it, but he does, he knows that this is Castiel, an Angel of the Lord in his true form. The angel’s figure is human-like and slender, his face is bare close to no features but it is beautiful all the same, and he glows an ethereal white and yellow._  
  
 _Just by simply standing next to the angel, Dean can feel the darkness leaving him and his memories returning._  
  
 _Dean knows now, that this is supposed to be the moment where Castiel reaches out and grips him tight in order to raise him from perdition, where Castiel lifts Dean up and takes him away from this terrible place._  
  
 _But suddenly, the angel turns and flies back up. He leaves Dean behind._  
  
 _“Wait,” Dean yells, “you can’t leave me here! Please!”_  
  
 _But the angel doesn’t listen to him; he continues flying up, alone. His silhouette grows smaller and smaller with every second._  
  
 _“No! Cas! Cas, Please!” Dean yells as loud as he can. “Castiel!”_  
  
  
Dean’s eyes shot open, he was drenched in his own sweat, breathless. He didn’t have the shirt in his hands not on his face, but there was a gentle caress to his forehead that calmed him. It was weird, and wrong, and he should’ve jerked away from the touch. But he didn’t.  
  
Instead, he turned his head to see Castiel sitting on the edge of the couch. It was dark in the room but Dean could feel the angel’s piercing gaze. Castiel’s hand brushed the hunter’s forehead, rubbing the cold sweat away. Dean couldn’t bring himself to say a single word; a part of him wanted to yell at the fallen angel and to tell him to leave, but another part was shaking in fear that Castiel just  **_might_ ** . That part was scared that the ex-angel’s cool palm would move away from his forehead, and that the touch would be torn.  
  
“If you hate me so much, why do you keep calling my name in your sleep?” Castiel asked.  
  
Dean wanted to tell Cas the truth, just this once. Maybe it was because the traces of his nightmare were still fresh in his mind, maybe it was because he wasn’t sure if he was awake or still dreaming, but it didn’t matter. Dean didn’t know what to say.  
  
“And if  **_you_ **  hate me so much…” Dean finally started, “why do you keep coming back when I call you?”  
  
Dean was ready for anything; He was ready for Castiel to leave him and return to the panic room, he was ready for Castiel’s dagger-like tongue to pierce him with insults, and he was ready to get punched like he had been several days ago. But Castiel just smiled faintly at him. Other people wouldn’t have even noticed it on the face of the angel, but for Dean, it was the answer to every question in his head.  
  
“I don’t hate you, Dean Winchester.”  
  
And Dean didn’t hate Castiel, not even after the angel had lied to him. Dean had just been hurt. And all this time, all the attitude towards the angel was only to hide his pain.  
  
Dean started laughing, moving from his laying position to settling upright on the edge of the couch, next to the smaller man. He knew there wasn’t anything funny about the situation, but he couldn’t stop himself.  
  
“Why are you laughing?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Well, because we’re both full of crap, you know.”  
  
Castiel looked Dean in the eyes and tilted his head, but then he nodded with understanding and smiled again.  
  
“Yes, I guess we are.”  
  
For several moments they just sat there looking at each other.  
  
“What the hell happened to you, Cas?” The hunter asked.  
  
“God?” Castiel answered, but his tone told Dean that the ex-angel wasn’t sure.  
  
“God kicked your ass and sent you back to the Earth?”  
  
“I think so, yes.”  
  
“What do you mean, you think so?”  
  
“Dean, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Castiel sighed and closed his eyes.  
  
“Nah, Cas, I was being a dick, too.” The hunter interrupted him.  
  
“No, Dean,” Castiel shook his head, “it was fair. You were right; I couldn’t maintain such a power, it had begun killing me. I had opened Purgatory again, and when I stepped in the souls tore me apart. Then I woke up in the panic room.”  
  
Castiel looked up at Dean, remorse written on his face. “I didn’t deserve to be saved. You were correct to come to that conclusion, Dean.”  
  
“Great Cas, now it is  **_you_ **  feeding me an ’I didn’t deserve to be saved’ speech? Perfect.” Dean grunted in annoyance.  
  
Castiel nodded silently, getting up from the couch, but Dean grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him to himself. The ex-angel tumbled into Dean’s lap with a quiet gasp, and Dean embraced him and buried his face in Castiel’s shoulder. Dean felt that something broke inside him this moment. It was like the wall in his brother’s head, but instead of bad memories it had been held something else – something warm and right. Then he started to feel other man shaking on his knees, sighing and sobbing. Dean moved one hand to ex-angel’s cheek to discover, that it was wet. Castiel was crying.  
  
Dean wanted to calm him down somehow, to say that it was all going to be okay, but he found himself speechless. Instead, his hand slid down Castiel’s side in search of the edge of angel’s shirt, which Dean’s fingers dipped under the fabric in search of skin. Dean moved his hand to rest on Castiel’s stomach, his fingers moving in soft circles.  
  
Castiel froze for a moment, before he settled in closer to Dean. The hunter turned to rest his forehead against Castiel’s, his eyes meeting the fallen angel’s gaze. Castiel gulped and nodded, allowing Dean to move in even closer, pressing his lips softly to Castiel‘s.  
  
Dean had never kissed another man, he didn’t know what to expect. It was sloppy; it was wet and salty of saliva mixed with tears. Dean had no idea why did he start it, but at the moment it seemed like the only way to tell the angel that Dean cared. Castiel moaned in his mouth and started to fall down on the couch, holding Dean by the collar of his shirt and tugging the hunter down on top of himself.  
  
Dean didn‘t know where any of this was coming from, but the very moment he’d woken up he had felt a strong need to be close to Castiel. To be with him; and kissing him wasn‘t such a big deal… But sex with a fallen angel in a male body? That was a whole new level of fucked up, even for Dean Winchester. But this was Castiel. Cas, who had gripped Dean tight and risen him from perdition, the one who’d saved his ass countless times... And now, Castiel thought he didn’t deserve to be saved? So screw it, screw his moral barriers and frights. Castiel needed to know everything, everything Dean thought about him. So if it was the only way to show, Dean didn’t mind it.  
  
Dean couldn’t control himself. All the anger and despair that had building up for a month now, was rushing out of him in the form of pure passion. Castiel’s body felt hot underneath the hunter. It was unfamiliar for Dean: harder and stronger than he had used to, but it wasn’t unpleasant, it just was different. Both men were breathing hard, exploring each-other with their hands, tugging their clothes off and then exploring more. Dean had to make an effort to tear their lips apart, and push himself up. For several moments they were just laying there naked, staring into each-other’s eyes. That was it – the last chance to stop, to run away and spend the rest of the life pretending it had never happened, but Dean wasn’t going to. For him it became more than just an attempt to prove Castiel that he deserved saving more than anyone else in the whole world. It became an attempt to prove that the hunter himself deserved something he could call happiness. And Dean rushed forwards again, attacking Castiel’s lips with new force.  
  
Knowing Castiel for nearly four years, Dean expected him to be totally ignorant. Yes, it had been the first time for the angel and the hunter could feel that the guy was nervous at the beginning, but Dean had to change his opinion when the smaller man parted his legs, positioning himself, knowing perfectly what he wanted. Dean couldn’t help but smirk at that, as he mumbled something like “one moment” reaching for his duffel he was keeping behind the couch side.  
  
Dean had never felt anything like it, before. And no, it wasn’t about physical pleasure, there was something else… The way everything felt meaningless around him, the way the room disappeared, like they were somewhere between space and time. The way Castiel was spread underneath him, moaning louder with every thrust. The way he looked, his usual calm and stoic demeanor had been lost to the world, now he was uncontrolled, his hair messy, and his lips parted with only Dean‘s name upon them.  
  
In the back of his mind Dean knew that they were too loud, that Castiel was waking up everyone in the house, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.  
  
Sometime between the thrusts they managed to turn on the couch, and now Castiel sat on top of Dean, riding him. Dean kissed his angelic face, while wrapping one hand around the other man’s erection, trying to give more than take.  
  
Castiel’s palm found its way to hunter’s shoulder, exactly on the scar Castiel had left on him when he’d yanked him out of Hell. The angel was crying again, but this time the hunter could say it wasn’t out of pain or sorrow, rather it was because of these overwhelming emotions the two were sharing. He knew it, because he also felt tears running from his own eyes. They were connected physically and emotionally at the same time, and it was so perfect.  
  
And then, out of nowhere, Dean came to realize why he felt like this was the best sex he‘d ever had; this wasn‘t just sex he was having with Castiel. They weren’t fucking, and they didn’t have sex - they had made love. This thought stroke Dean like a bullet right through his heart, but most surprising was the fact, that it didn’t scare the hunter. Even with the fact how girlish the thought was, how alien for Dean’s existence it felt, right now it seemed so natural, so right.  
  
Dean was sure he had never been so happy before, not with anyone else. The way Castiel felt, his skin, his warmth, his breath, and the moment where his body shook in one spasm, crying out Dean’s name. The hunter’s mind went blank as he surged with release inside of the angel, grunting and panting.  
  
Dean didn’t remember exactly what had happened after. It seemed like they had fallen down on a couch simultaneously, breathing heavily and looking each-other in the eyes. It looked like Castiel kept telling Dean something, but the hunter could not proceed it yet. His mind was still disconnected from his body after everything what had happened today. Slowly his consciousness started to fade into black. He was trying to resist it, but it was too strong – the explosion of his emotions made the hunter exhausted and slowly he sank back into deep sleep.  
***  
  
The next thing Dean had felt was the warmth of sunlight on his skin. At first Dean thought that he had died and now was seeing heaven, but after several moments he made himself open his eyes and look around. The bright light simply turned to be a ray of sun, picking through the window in Bobby’s living room. It was resting on hunter’s face, making it twitch and squint.  
  
Dean turned his head away from the sun and now noticed Castiel, lying next to him, cuddling; with his head on hunter’s shoulder and his arm resting on Dean’s chest. Ex-angel was still asleep, his face was lax and full of peace in his slumber and now Dean couldn’t help admitting that Castiel was beautiful this way. And no, it had to do nothing with Jimmy’s physical characteristics, but with the angel himself, who now could show all his trust to the hunter, let himself be so open, so venerable next to him.  
  
Dean expected to wake up in the morning in panic about what had happened last night, that he would want to run away and never show up again, but surprisingly he felt nothing like that. In fact he realized that right now the last thing in the world he wanted is to be away from his angel.  
  
“I wasn‘t aware you could grow tits and a vagina over one night.” Dean said to himself in annoyance at his thought process.  
  
Dean turned his head to glance at Bobby’s clock, it was 7:00 A.M. Hunter strained his ears, trying to hear if anyone had already been awake but the house was quiet. Bobby and Sam were probably still sleeping. Now he just had to make himself get up, for no one could see him here, cuddling with Castiel. Of course Dean realized that there wasn’t a single way two other hunters didn’t hear them: Castiel turned out to be a hell of a noisemaker. But Dean just wanted to save their eyes, if he had failed to save their ears. So Dean turned back to his angel and placed his thumb on the other man’s face.  
  
“Hey, Cas,” Dean whispered, petting Castiel’s chin, “wake up.”  
  
Castiel groaned and moved even closer, hugging Dean now also with his leg. A wide smile split his face.  
  
“Cas, we need to get up, buddy – I‘m pretty sure Sam and Bobby don‘t won‘t to see us like this.”  
  
The ex-angel chuckled and opened happy blue eyes staring at Dean’s green ones.  
  
“It‘s not as bad as I originally thought.” Castiel declared all the sudden. Dean’s eyebrow rose in confusion, and Cas went on, “Being human.”  
  
Dean chuckled at those words: “Well, you haven‘t lived until you try an apple pie.”  
  
Castiel rewarded the hunter with another wide smile making Dean’s heart jump in his chest.  
  
“You know what?” Dean asked, “Screw Sam and Bobby.”  
  
And with these words he moved on top of Castiel, kissing him. Castiel moaned in response, sending a jolt of pleasure to Dean’s groin, but a gust of wind made them stop. Suddenly, they both were fully clothed.  
  
“What the hell?” Surprised, Dean quickly looked around the room.  
  
“Ah boys, sorry for interrupting your little interaction,” a familiar voice said, “but I have something for Castiel.”  
  
Both the hunter and the ex-angel jumped from their positions on the couch, starring at the figure in the corner of the living room. It was always little bit dark in this room and this exact corner was eliminated purely, but it was impossible not to recognize the angel.  
  
“Ba… Balthazar?” Castiel nervously asked; the poor guy was beside himself trying to figure out what to do.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, brother: I’m not going to harm you.” Balthazar explained quickly. “Really, Cassie, I’m not angry at you, I swear.”  
  
And then the ex-angel rushed to his brother bringing him into an embrace.  
  
 “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, brother!” He started.  
  
“It’s okay, Cassie. Really.” The angel smiled.  
  
Dean, in turn, felt out of place. He set on the edge of the couch glaring at the two.  
  
“Anyway, back to business.” Balthazar finally nodded. “Otherwise your boyfriend will kill me… Really don’t want to die again.”  
  
Castiel returned to Dean, settling by his side.  
  
“Wait, someone wasted you?” Dean asked. He turned to look at Castiel in search for explanation; instead he found an ashamed look on Castiel’s face. “Wait… was it… Cas?”  
  
“Okay. Let’s not talk about it! Cas already said he is sorry, and I’m alive, I don‘t know how but I am. Anyway, here.”  
  
And Balthazar withdrew something from his pocket and tossed it to Castiel. When the ex-angel caught it, Dean could finally see what this object actually was, and for some reason it made him shiver. It was a small glowing glass vial, filled with a white light. Dean had seen something like it before, when he, Anna, Sam and Ruby encountered Uriel – it was a container with Grace. And the fact that Balthazar gave it to the younger looking brother made it clear that this Grace belonged to Castiel.  
  
“Went through some trouble getting this, but it was worth it!” Balthazar smiled. “Now you will be able to return back to Heaven.”  
  
Dean saw how Castiel face changed, it became brighter and happier. Of course, being an angel was everything to him; without his Grace, he felt empty and powerless. Dean had to be happy for his friend, congratulate him, but he wasn‘t. When Castiel turned to face the hunter, Dean gave him a forced smile, trying to make it as realistic as he could.  
  
“I’m happy for you, Cas.” He whispered. Castiel nodded and smiled back, but then turned to his brother.  
  
“I want you to keep it.” He said, returning the vial back to Balthazar.  
  
“Keep it? Are you sure?” The other angel asked in surprise.  
  
“Cas? But, it’s your Grace, your everything…” Dean started, but Castiel shut him up by putting a finger to his lips.  
  
“I know…” The ex-angel nodded. “I’m not giving up on it. I’ll take it back in, maybe, forty years or so.”  
  
Dean smiled again, and this time it was a real smile, not a fake one. He wanted to kiss his lover so much right now, but he still couldn’t bring himself to do it while someone else was in a room. He was pretty sure Castiel should be the only one to see this side of him.  
  
“And for now…“ Castiel murmured, smiling again. “For now I still haven’t tried any apple pie.”


End file.
